


At the End of Everything

by tealbrigade



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Agatha’s working through some stuff, Gen, Inspired by Night In the Woods, Mental Health Issues, Night In The Woods AU, Snowbaz in the background, Spoilers for Night In The Woods, Starts as wholesome relationship building and then turns into a weird mystery, The focus is on their friendships though, They’re good kids, aren’t we all
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:21:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29033097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tealbrigade/pseuds/tealbrigade
Summary: Agatha Wellbelove abruptly returns to her small hometown of Watford after a year and a half at uni. She’d run away to California, but something’s sent her running back. As she readjusts to a town that hasn’t changed and relationships that have, strange happenings and strange dreams begin cropping up, and Agatha and her friends find themselves in the middle of a mystery that could very well end the world as they know it.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	1. Last Train Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and welcome to this Night In the Woods AU! I played through this game recently and the story has really stuck with me, and as soon as I drew parallels to the Carry On crew, I couldn’t help but write this. 
> 
> Though I’ve altered plenty of details from the game to fit the AU, as we go on we’ll still get into some spoilers for the game. If you haven’t played it and intend to, just a warning! But you don’t have to know anything about the game to understand and enjoy this story.
> 
> Updates weekly on Wednesdays or more if I feel like it!

The lights of the city faded fast. They seem so important and permanent in the midst of them, but get on a train to the countryside, and they disappear in no time.

Agatha Wellbelove was on that train.

It was the last train of the night, and she was alone, only her duffel bag for company under the steady fluorescent lights. Outside the window were hills and trees and vaguely familiar landscapes, but mostly she was staring into the eyes of her own reflection in the glass. It was the only thing that still seemed to have any sort of meaning.

The eyes in the reflection were tired, but that was better than nothing.

The Watford station was just outside the actual city limit, and when she stepped inside, she sighed as she noted that though the lights were on, the place was empty. Not an attendant in sight. No family welcoming her home.

_ Figures. _

Agatha hoisted her bag over her shoulder. If she was walking home, she might as well get going.

The exit was on the far end of the station, and she spotted the first sign of life since returning to Watford standing before the door, a woman in overalls finagling the doorjamb. An opened toolkit sat at her feet, and the other half of the doorway she wasn’t working on was covered with red tape that read, in very obnoxious letters,  _ OUT OF ORDER. _

Not seeing any other exit, Agatha bit back a sigh and called out, “Uh, excuse me?”

The woman didn’t even twitch. “Just a second and I’ll have this opened in no time.”

“Okay.” Agatha stood there, an awkward silence stretching out. Maybe it was only awkward on her side. “No one else here, huh?”

“All gone home for the day.”

“Seems weird if there’s still trains coming in.”

“Well,” the woman replied as she smacked something metal with her palm, “there’s never anyone on the last train in.”

“Yet here I am.”

“Here you are,” the woman replied. Finally she finished her work and turned, and Agatha got her first good look at her. She was younger than Agatha anticipated; still, there were lines around her eyes and mouth, dusted with freckles on her skin. Wavy brown hair was tied up in a bun, and the blue eyes that stared back seemed unusually piercing to Agatha.

“What brings you all the way to Watford?” the woman asked. An embroidered patch on her overalls read  _ Lucy, _ and her speaking the town’s name made Agatha realize just how much she’d missed the local dialect.

“I’m from here,” Agatha replied, her grip tightening on her bag’s strap. Worry, or nervousness, or anxiety. Whatever. “Just coming back from uni.”

Lucy paused. “It’s the middle of the term. And a Tuesday.”

“Sure is.” Agatha offered no more information, and Lucy shrugged.

“Well, be careful getting home,” the woman said, bending over to pack up her tools and flick off the light switch. “And whatever you’re looking for, I hope you find it.”

“I—what?” Agatha asked, but Lucy was already out the door, leaving Agatha alone in the dark.

“Cool. Thanks,” Agatha muttered, but followed the woman out into the night. It was warmer outside than in the station, despite the arrival of fall; a single fluorescent bulb flickered unsteadily outside the doors. Though she expected to see Lucy just a few paces ahead of her, there was no one else in sight as Agatha stepped forward.

_ Weird, _ she thought, but she was more focused on the fact that home was a walk through the old Wavering Woods, which was not exactly a pleasant time even in the daylight.  _ Well, if I get murdered out here, at least someone around saw me go first. _

The woods were quiet, only the sound of leaves and dead grass crunching under Agatha’s feet breaking the stillness. Back in the day, she and Simon would traipse around out here, running amok and having whatever adventures they could imagine that day. The memory was nostalgic, but bittersweet.

So much had changed since then, since feeling free and wild with her best friend.

At one point she had to scale a fallen log, then clamber up and over a chain-link fence. If her parents could see her now, they’d be horrified at the indignity. Then again, she was only doing this because they hadn’t bothered to come get her. 

_ Welcome back! Nobody cares!  _ said the voice in the back of her mind, but Agatha didn’t feel like listening to it tonight. She was tired. She wanted to be home. Deep down, she wanted home to want her back. That, though, remained to be seen. 

She’d just cleared the woods and made it to the main road when she caught sight of a police car. As she passed by, its door opened and a voice called out, “Is that Agatha Wellbelove?”

Agatha paused and turned. Premal Bunce was looking at her quizzically, his uniform carefully pressed and badge shining. “It’s me,” Agatha called back, making no move to walk over. 

Premal didn’t take the hint. The Bunces usually didn’t. “Why are you wandering around out here after dark?”

“Just got into the station. Heading home.”

He pursed his lips, clearly wanting more details, but instead of an interrogation he merely said, “It’s late. Let me give you a ride.”

Agatha paused, considering. Then she shrugged, and got in the patrol car. 

She stared out the window most of the ride, and Premal didn’t try to fill the silence. Every now and then, a low chatter would come over the radio, but it must not have been important, because Premal ignored it. Agatha didn’t mind. The last thing she wanted right now was to explain herself. 

Watford mostly consisted of the Main Street, where all the businesses lined the sidewalk and apartments sat atop the storefronts, a couple of side neighborhoods, and the church up the hill. That was about it. Agatha used to hate the smallness of it, how everyone knew everyone and everything and privacy basically didn’t exist. 

But it  _ was _ familiar, and that’s what Agatha wanted right now. 

Premal pulled up to the curb in front of the Wellbelove residence, having remembered the way after several years of ferrying his younger sister Penelope to and from hangouts with Agatha. She grabbed her back and opened the door, saying as she climbed out, “Thanks for the ride, Premal.”

“Sure thing, Agatha. Hey,” he added, causing her to hesitate before she slammed the door shut, “be careful, all right?”

“Will do, mall cop,” she replied, tossing back the old nickname she and Penelope would use. He just rolled his eyes and drove away. She didn’t watch him go, just walked up to her front door, took a deep breath, and walked in. It was never locked.

The familiar scent of home hit her with the force of a hug that’s just a little uncomfortably tight. “Hello?” she called out as she closed the door behind her and stepped into the foyer. “I’m home.”

“Agatha? Is that you, honey?” That voice came from the kitchen, so Agatha moved down the hall to find it. Her mother was seated at the kitchen table, a book in her hands.

Her eyes widened upon seeing Agatha. “Oh, Agatha! We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”

“My flight got in today. Thought I told you that.”

“You told us it was tomorrow,” Mrs Wellbelove insisted.

“Well, that explains why no one was at the station to pick me up.”

Her mother gasped. “Did you walk all the way here from the station? Honey, you should have called!”

“My phone died on the train. And it’s okay, Premal was around and gave me a ride.” Only halfway, but she wasn’t going to mention her trek through the woods. Her mom looked worried enough already. 

“Oh, good. He was always a nice young man.” Mrs Wellbelove smiled, but it didn’t quite look natural. “Are you hungry? We’ve already eaten, but there are leftovers—”

“No thanks, mom. I’m really tired. I think I just want to go to bed.”

“All right then. Your room’s just like you left it, and the sheets are clean.”

“Thanks, mom.” Agatha turned to head upstairs. 

Just as she passed through the kitchen doorway, her mother added, “Good night, honey. Welcome home.”

Agatha flashed a smile back in response, but it was about as genuine as her mother’s had been.

She trudged up the familiar stairs, skipping the second step from the top on reflex (it squeaked badly), and dropped her bag unceremoniously as she stepped inside her room. As promised, it was exactly as she’d left it when she left for uni: there was her bare desk in the corner, there were the  _ Greatest Mages  _ concert posters on the walls, there was her Watford School-branded purple blanket thrown over her white duvet. She flopped onto the bed face-first, not bothering to change out of her clothes, inhaling the familiar scent of her family’s brand of detergent.

_ Home sweet home. _

Agatha rolled over so she was staring at the ceiling, connecting the dots between all the stick-on glow-in-the-dark stars that she and Simon had stuck up there years ago. “Welcome home, Agatha Wellbelove,” she muttered into the darkness.


	2. The More Things Change

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha takes a stroll down memory lane, and not everything in Watford is as she remembers—much less the people she once knew. Old friends, new changes, and a bigger picture beginning to unfold.

Sunlight through the window roused Agatha out of sleep, mostly because the sun was shining directly into her retinas. 

She groaned and turned away from the window, which meant she faced her nightstand and could see the time on the clunky alarm clock she’d had since primary school. It cheerfully blinked 4:37. 

Agatha blinked at it, noted the lighting in the room, and groaned again. It was evening already. 

She dragged herself out of bed and into the shower, and once clean and clad in fresh clothes, she ventured downstairs. The house felt different in the light of day than it had the night before, but the fading evening light did little to lessen the strange feeling in Agatha’s chest.

On the wall along the staircase hung a Wellbelove family portrait, taken on a family vacation when Agatha was about thirteen. She was skinnier then. Scrawnier, really. She’d put on a little weight at uni and had felt self-conscious about it, but looking at the littler Agatha, she thought that maybe she just looked  _ fuller _ now. That wasn’t so bad. 

“Is that Agatha I hear?”

She plopped onto the hardwood at the bottom of the stairs and rounded the corner into the living room. Her father sat on the couch, a newspaper sprawled across his lap, the TV on in front of him tuned to some sitcom. 

“Hey, dad,” she said. 

Dr. Wellbelove was pretty much the only medical professional in Watford, which is why the family was so well-off compared to most of the other residences. Only the Pitches could match them, but the Pitch family was old money. The Wellbeloves enjoyed a more recent wealth, one that allowed Mrs Wellbelove to spend her days at the club and allowed Agatha to attend university in California. Or, had allowed it. Before she dropped out and came running home. 

“I’m sorry we weren’t there to pick you up,” her father was saying. “We really did think you weren’t getting in until today.”

“That’s all right,” Agatha replied. “I made it here safe and sound.”

“Eventful trip?”

“Not really. Pretty quiet. Just long.”

“Well, nothing wrong with that.”

Agatha and her father stood there, avoiding the other’s gaze. 

“So,” Dr Wellbelove said. “Why the sudden desire to come home?”

She knew she’d have to get into this eventually, but it was still too raw. “Couldn’t handle the stress anymore, I guess,” she said instead. “Classes, papers, a whole different culture.”

“Well, sure.” He paused. “It’s been a year and a half already, though. And you hadn’t mentioned any trouble when we’d call—“

“Hey, dad? It’s okay. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know, Agatha, but—“

“I’ve got some stuff to do in town,” she interrupted, which wasn’t true but was a good enough excuse as any. “I’ll be back before it gets too late.”

Dr. Wellbelove looked like he wanted to keep pressing, but instead he just nodded. “Okay. I’ll be down at the clinic tonight, so you’ll have to let yourself back in.”

“Okay. I’ve still got the key. Plus, mom always leaves the door unlocked when she gets home.”

“That she does.” He paused. “Good to have you home, Agatha.”

“Thanks, dad.” She fled out the front door before she could give anything else away. 

***

At first glance, Watford hadn’t changed a bit. Autumn had fallen over the sleepy town, costing it with warm tones in the trees and pumpkins on the stoops. The road leading out to the welcome sign was under construction, as it had been since well before Agatha left for uni. She began walking the opposite direction to the heart of town. 

There was the tree that she and Simon would climb on to get up to the roof. There were the steps that led out toward the church. There was the pretzel stand she and Penelope would visit on the way home from school after exam days. There was the eccentric neighbor up on his rooftop with a telescope looking for dusk stars. 

As she wandered deeper into town, though, she began to notice small changes. The pizzeria was closed and boarded up. The video rental store had been replaced with a used bookshop. Several apartment buildings looked more worn down than normal, with windows that would usually be open now shuttered. Where there once was an empty lot between historic buildings, a shiny convenience store was wedged between walls of old brick, glowing neon. 

Agatha went in there first, mostly because it just felt so out of place and she was curious. 

A vaguely familiar indie song played softly from invisible speakers, and Agatha blinked as she walked inside. Walls of coolers surrounded metal shelves packed with snacks and miscellaneous electronics, and in the center a rotisserie cooked hot dogs. The scent of plastic and dried soda hung limp on the air. The place was empty, and it’s apparent abandonment felt far more ominous than the old businesses boarded up had. 

“Welcome to Tesco, can I help—“ a voice began, before exploding into “Oh my god,  _ Agatha?” _

She looked toward the voice coming from the customer service desk just in time to see a young man literally launch himself over the countertop and begin barreling toward her. 

_ “Simon?”  _ she started to say, before the man in question pulled her into a hug and spun her around as they both laughed. 

“Aggie! I can’t believe it!” Simon Snow exclaimed, beaming a smile at her. “I didn’t know you were in town!”

“Just got in last night,” she replied, and the first real smile she’d felt since returning upturned her lips.

He was just as she’d remembered: unruly brown curls, freckles and moles, bright blue eyes, and a wicked grin. If the store had a uniform, he wasn’t wearing it, instead his usual fare of a plain t-shirt under a bomber jacket, faded jeans and worn-out converse.

“Dude! This is so great! I can’t believe you’re back! Oh, man,” he barreled on. “We’re gonna get up to  _ sooo  _ many crimes.”

“Please, Si, don’t get me kicked out of town right when I get back.”

“C’mon, you know you want to.” Then Simon stopped and cocked his head slightly as the implications of her presence caught up to him. “Wait, what happened to uni?”

“Eh.” Agatha shrugged. “Dropped out, I guess.”

“Oi, that bad, huh?”

She just pulled one from his book and offered a shrug as an answer, then moved the conversation right along. “So, what, since when does Watford have a Tesco?”

“Since, like, a few months ago? I don’t really remember.” His face scrunched up. “I mean, I’ve worked here since it opened, but it’s usually so boring it’s hard to keep the days straight.”

“Yeah, seems a real happening place,” she remarked, casting a pointed glance around the otherwise empty shop.

Simon shrugged, then his expression grew mischievous. “Hey. We’re having band practice today. Wanna drop in? Just like old times?”

“Christ, I don’t know if I even remember how to play.”

“Come on, Aggie! Old times’ sake!”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but she knew she was smiling anyway. “Okay, okay, yeah.”

Simon whooped aloud. “All  _ right!  _ Let’s go!”

“Wait, right now? Aren’t you working?”

He gave her a look that said  _ are you serious right now?  _ “Eh, it’s fine. I can basically skip out whenever.”

“...How on earth are you still employed?”

***

As it turned out, band practices had graduated from the Wellbelove basement and into the abandoned husk of the old party store. Sullen balloons clung to the rafters, and most of the metal shelving had been shoved aside to form a center space for all the instruments.

Calling themselves a ‘band’ at all was generous. Really, it had just been Agatha and Simon noodling around on guitars, then Simon brought in his buddy Dev for drums, then Dev had roped in his cousin Baz for the keys. They had never once played a public show, but back in school, every week they’d meet up and just jam. It was a highlight of Agatha’s week. 

As she and Simon let themselves in through the back entrance, Agatha asked, “Wait, you just leave all the stuff here? And it’s not even locked?”

Simon shrugged. “Nothing’s been stolen yet.”

The place was relatively creepy in the low lighting and general abandonment, but spotting familiar faces helped. Already on the stage fiddling with the lights was a familiarly posh-looking guy, black hair to his chin that he frequently had to sweep back out of his eyes. Opposite him, engrossed in the display of a laptop screen balanced on a speaker, a young woman in mismatched leggings and a long belted tunic stood, her puff of long curls haphazardly pulled back and a pair of glasses balancing precariously on her nose.

Neither paid any attention to their entrance until Simon hollered, “Hey, guys! Look who the cat dragged in!”

Baz turned from his handiwork, satisfied with the light situation, and his face lit up upon seeing Agatha. “Agatha Wellbelove, as I live and breathe,” he said, raising an eyebrow at her, though it didn’t feel as hostile or sarcastic as she knew he could make it.

Hearing Agatha’s name drew Penelope’s attention away from her computer, though she seemed less excited to see Agatha. “Hey,” was all she mustered. “Didn’t know you were back.”

“Just got in,” Agatha said, already weary of the explanation. “Didn’t really plan it, so here I am. Simon said the band’s still together.”

“More or less,” Baz said, lounging casually with his hands in the pockets of his slacks. “We had Penny take over your bass parts while you were gone.”

Agatha glanced pointedly to Penelope, who was stationed nowhere near the bass guitar on its stand—and now that Agatha looked at it, that guitar looked awfully dusty. “Really? I didn’t know you played.”

“I don’t,” Penelope replied. She gestured to her computer. “But I make it happen.”

“Huh,” Agatha offered, taken aback slightly at the frosty reception. She turned her attention to the drums, or rather, to the pointedly empty space where drums would normally reside. “And where’s Dev?”

If Agatha thought the atmosphere in the room was made awkward by her arrival, it was nothing compared to the knowing glances passed between her three friends at her question. Even Simon deflated, looking helplessly over to Baz.

It was Penny who answered. “I guess you hadn’t heard yet,” she said. “Dev just...vanished. Up and left town a few months ago.”

“What? Where to?”

“No one knows,” Baz filled in when Penny’s attention returned to her laptop. “Apparently he was seen walking out toward the woods, out past the old grocers’. But he didn’t tell anyone where he was going, and no one’s heard from him.”

“Not even you?” Agatha asked, thoroughly confused. But Baz seemed just as lost as she felt, merely shrugging at his cousin’s disappearance. “No one bothered to look?”

“Of course we did,” Penny chimed back in, annoyance in her voice. “But it didn’t go anywhere. It looks like Dev just felt like moving on.”

“Right. Sorry,” Agatha said. She was intensely curious about that story, but everyone else seemed uncomfortable with her questioning. She guessed it was dredging up bad memories, if Baz’s expression and Penny’s irritation were any clues. “Um. Band practice?”

That brought a little more life back into the room, and Simon hustled her over to the others and practically threw the bass guitar into her hands.

“Yeah, sweet!” He cheered. “Hey, Penny, can you turn off the bass parts on your thing?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The guitar felt simultaneously reassuringly familiar and like a clumsy weight in Agatha’s hands. “Yeah, I don’t know if I remember how to do this.”

“It’ll be fine!” Simon said as the others got into place—Penelope at her computer, Baz behind his keyboard, Simon himself slinging his guitar over his shoulder. “Just go for it.”

“Whatever you say,” Agatha muttered, and they began to play.

It wasn’t fine at all. She really didn’t remember how to do this—that thought stuck in her head the rest of the day and well into the night. 

She couldn’t help but feel like slipping back into her old life in Watford was going to be just as painful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gang is all here! I promise the tensions here get explained more in subsequent chapters and you better believe I’m gonna fix them real quick. I want them to all be the Squad Goals we all know they can be.
> 
> Find me over on twitter @tealbrigade! :)


	3. Forces Greater Than Us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agatha has a very unnerving dream. Ebb is a good shepherd. Hindsight is 20/20.

The town was dark, and overhead, dim lights flickered in and out.

Somewhere just ahead, Agatha could see a faint light, and she followed it. Her steps felt heavy, yet she moved like gravity couldn’t keep its hold on her. This didn’t seem unusual. In dreams, nothing ever does.

The houses’ windows remained dark as she traversed the Main Street, though every streetlamp burst to life when she passed beneath them. She didn’t see anyone else here, until she reached the well.

There weren’t any wells in Watford, but this thought didn’t occur to Agatha right now. She was more focused on the figure perched upon the edge, violin in her hands, and the sweet music she pulled from the strings filled the air, surrounding Agatha. It was at once beautiful and suffocating. The woman didn’t acknowledge Agatha’s presence, or perhaps she was simply unaware of it. She played on, and Agatha backed away. 

She kept walking, the violin’s song following her steadily, no matter how much distance she put between it and herself. Soon enough, another well; another musician. This happened three more times, each instrument’s harmony adding to the overall song that followed her steps. 

After a minute—or perhaps it was hours?—she came upon the town square, or at least its twilight equivalent. Four pillars glowed with soft light, and as Agatha approached them, she found herself rooted to the spot. The lights grew and grew until, sure she was going blind, they erupted into the form of a figure she couldn’t quite discern. It took up the entire sky, its light obliterating the rest of the townscape she’d just traversed.

It was looking at her. It  _ saw  _ her. And it was hungry.

As panic began to set in, Agatha had the strangest sensation of dissolving, her form breaking into small shapes that were sucked away into the abyss—

Agatha woke up, gasping for breath, for anything other than that horrible  _ nothing. _

Shaken, she took a moment to try and steady her breathing. Late morning sunlight cast her room in a yellow hue, dust motes dancing on sunbeams. Everything was quiet and still; such a contrast to her dream. Nightmare. Whatever the hell that was.

The clock read 1:26 pm.

She sighed.

It took monumental effort to get upright and out of bed, but once she was standing, Agatha needed to move. She needed to go somewhere, anywhere, to escape the lingering residue of the dream. If she closed her eyes, she could almost make out that haunting violin tune.

She threw on some casual clothes—just some jeans and a long-sleeve shirt—and laced up some boots, and headed downstairs. Both of the elder Wellbeloves were gone, already attending to their own business for the day. Agatha slipped out, locking the door behind her, and into the fresh afternoon.

Quite the contrast from her dream, the real town of Watford just carried on as normal. Cars puttered down the street (still under construction), and leaves still fell from maple trees, and the same neighbors sat on the same stoops. Ginger was sitting out today, and she looked up from the notebook she’d been scribbling in when Agatha went by, and waved.

Agatha waved back, and stopped. “Hey, Ginger. What’s new?”

“You, apparently,” she replied, not seeming surprised at all to see Agatha back in town. “How was uni?”

“Eh. How’s Watford?”

“Eh.” Ginger beamed. 

“Whatcha working on?”

“Some poems. Do you wanna hear one?”

Agatha was curious. She and Ginger had been neighbors forever, but they’d never been especially close. “Sure,” Agatha replied, and Ginger cleared her throat dramatically.

_ “The more things change _

_ The more they stay the same _

_ Some days it stays sunny _

_ Others I watch the rain.” _

Ginger paused. Agatha had never really been one for poetry, so she had no idea if this was actually good or not. Still, she chimed in, “That’s nice, Ginger.”

“Thanks, Ags.” She returned her attention to her notebook, and Agatha took her opportunity to move on.

Agatha still felt restless, more so after standing and listening to questionable poetry. So instead of continuing into town like the day before, she hung a right at the end of the residential area and climbed up the hill to the church. 

She wasn’t religious—none of the Wellbeloves were, really—but the Church of the First Coalescence was one of Agatha’s favorite places in Watford. It was a bit of a walk away from the hubbub of town, perched atop a peaceful hill. She had spent plenty of time as a kid running up and down that hill, or biking with Simon out into the fields beyond, or sometimes just sneaking into the church during the week and enjoying the quiet of the empty sanctuary.

The building wasn’t impressive, but it still seemed at once homey and regal. Agatha bounded up the steps that climbed a particularly steep part of the hill, and she gazed out over the landscape. Down the path was a copse of trees, all evergreens clinging to their color despite the onset of autumn, and Agatha could see a figure facing away from her, taking in the view of the fields. She bounded over.

Hearing her approach, the figure turned. “Is that Agatha Wellbelove?” said Pastor Ebb, a huge smile on her weathered face. Ebb was the head of the church, and she’d watched all the kids in town grow up and, despite any theological differences that had emerged since then, still considered all of them part of her little flock. 

“Hey,” Agatha said, slowing to a stop. 

“Back for a visit?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s lovely,” Ebb said, her eyes getting a little watery. It was one of the things Agatha liked about her; she was so free with her emotions, never putting on a show. Unabashedly real. “It’s good to see you. I was thinking about you the other day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. I pray for you often, all the way in California like that. But here you are.” She said this with a smile, but her expression fell again as she turned back the way she was facing. 

Now that Agatha was out this far, she could see what Ebb was really looking at: down the hill, tucked under the canopy of evergreens, a gaggle of well-dressed people stood around a grubby-looking man seated amongst what appeared to be a small campsite. They all seemed to be conversing, the seated man looking tired, the others getting animated with their gestures.

“What’s happening down there?” Agatha asked, and Ebb just sighed.

“Nico down there is a traveler who made his way into town a week or so back,” Ebb explained. “I was perfectly content to let him stay at the church, but he refused. I insisted he at least use the building’s facilities when he needed them. I’d hoped we could come to a better arrangement to help him out, but then the City Council got wind of things, and…”

She trailed off with a sniffle. Agatha continued to watch as the City Council—now that Ebb had named them, she could recognize a few of the people who frequented the club with her mother—continued discussing God knows what with the vagabond Nico.

“Well,” Ebb went on, collecting herself. “I’ve been working with them, but they wanted to meet Nico. I don’t expect it to go well. You know how they are.”

In this context, Agatha really didn’t. But she could plainly see the distrust in Nico’s body language, and the way Ebb was bracing herself for whatever decision the council came to. Before she could think of something to say, after a pause, Ebb spoke up again. “Well, it’s nothing you need to concern yourself with, dear. Just adults being adults.” She offered Agatha a wink, even as her expression remained oddly sad. “Don’t grow up too fast, okay? It’s all a hoax.”

Agatha grinned. “Don’t have to tell me twice. See you later, Pastor Ebb.”

“Bye, Agatha. Good to see you back.” Ebb gave Agatha a friendly wave as she began walking away and the City Council made their way back up the hill. 

Agatha hesitated, slowing her pace as the council members reunited with Ebb and began discussing the situation. They spoke loudly, so it wasn’t too difficult to make out what they were saying.

“...still don’t think this is a good idea, Pastor.”

“Well, someone needs to help him. That’s kind of my job—“

“Yes, but we don’t want a repeat of the Davy incident, do we?”

“That’s not fair. That was…”

The conversation grew distant, and Agatha couldn’t make out any more. But still, the overheard snippets left a knot in Agatha’s stomach. She vaguely recalled something about a Davy and an incident and the church from before she left for Cali, but the details eluded her, and it seemed a touchy subject. She put it behind her for now, and returned to town.

Afternoon began its turn into evening, the sky growing more orange and shadows growing longer. Watford always seemed to shift gears around this time of day: cafes and stores closed up, and the diner and bars turned on their lights. Folks congregated in the square chatting while the weather was still good; winter would eventually put a stop to that. Agatha saw familiar faces up and down the streets as people returned to their homes from work, or vice versa. Many offered friendly, if surprised, waves and greetings, which she returned without elaboration.

Up ahead, where the old video rental place used to be, she spotted Baz leaving the bookstore and locking the door behind him. Agatha jogged a bit to catch up before he turned to leave. “Hey, Baz.”

“Evening, Wellbelove,” he said, the old nickname making her roll her eyes. “What are you up to today?”

“Just running around town, I guess,” she replied. “You?”

“Finishing up work for the day.” He gestured to the bookstore.

She frowned. “Since when do you need to work? Your family’s loaded.”

Now he was the one rolling his eyes. “Sure, but when your aunt decides running a business would be fun but doesn’t want to pay for help, you get roped into things.”

“So Fiona’s still the same, I see.”

“Regrettably.” He scowled as he said it, but Agatha was familiar enough with the look to see the actual affection in it. “Anyway. I was just about to go pick up Simon, if you’d like to come along?”

Agatha fell in step with Baz and as they set off, she commented, “I didn’t realize you two had gotten close. You used to be at each other's throats all the time.”

Baz huffed. “That’s because he liked picking fights with his fists, and I liked picking them with my words. It was bound to be a disaster.” His expression softened. “Yet, here we are.”

“I’m glad.” Agatha stepped on a fallen leaf in their path, disappointed when it didn’t crunch beneath her shoe. “You two used to be so exhausting.”

“Well, we figured some things out. Besides, living together kind of forces you to figure out how to coexist.”

“Oh, you’re roommates?”

Baz cocked an eyebrow at her. “Yeah,” he said. “We’re a couple.”

Agatha stopped in her tracks, and she stared. “You’re  _ what?” _

He just stopped and stared right back, incredulous. “Simon never told you?”

“No, he didn’t! I mean, I’m happy for you both. I guess I never knew that Simon was…”

“It’s a relatively recent development,” Baz admitted. “And he’s still figuring a lot of it out. He avoids talking about it, for the most part.”

“I guess I can understand that,” Agatha murmured as they resumed the walk. “I wish I’d been here for him.”

Baz just patted her shoulder. They continued on in companionable silence, and as the Tesco came into view, Agatha added, “Well, how much he obsessively talked about you is making a hell of a lot more sense in hindsight.”

That got a laugh out of him. “Doesn’t it just?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> The action’s going to pick up real soon, I promise. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Twitter @tealbrigade :)


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